Unmasked
by LucasGreenX23
Summary: [Spoilers] In the aftermath of TFBW, the New Kid of South Park makes a sobering discovery. Her parents did not survive Mephesto's lab. Now with her only family gone and her true self-revealed, how will the little mute girl cope? She couldn't even say goodbye. (PTSD, Depression, implied Self-Harm.)


Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to South Park. Maybe that's for the best.

 **XXX**

Kelly Hayes left this world in the early hours of a bitter spring morning, marinating in a pool of her own blood.

In the last moments of her life, as her upsettingly inconsequential existence flashed before her eyes, she came to a stunned realisation that contrary to popular belief flashbacks did not, in fact, showcase all the wonderful happy moments of her life, but rather, much like a nightmare, came the ghastly realizations of her own preconceived actions in times prior. Specifically, regarding her nine-year-old child. A child who would now face a big terrifying world, without their mom and dad.

For years they'd worked their fingers to the bones, trying against all odds to hide away from the shady government triggermen tracking their every movement. For years, she and her husband Chris had wielded the abilities to amass followers across specific online platforms in the millions.

Snatched from their homes with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, the pair found themselves as the unsuspecting patrons of the American government. Their goal… to weaponize their abilities to gain followers, for their own nefarious ends. After all, what could be more useful to any unscrupulous political entity, than the capability to near instantaneously garner millions of supporters at the push of a button?

It wasn't until their unlikely romance in the dark confines of an underground cell had bared fruits richer and more precious than either could have possibly anticipated, that the realizations struck that this treatment of their union could not be allowed to reach its, in hindsight, foregone conclusion.

Chris and Kelly had a baby. A beautiful healthy baby girl, with soft hazel brown hair and adorable green eyes. They had created life, and in doing so, condemned themselves and their precious creation to a life of lies, deceit and forever watching over their shoulders.

When the full extent of their baby's powers was revealed, yielding a follower count of over ten million in her first waking moments of life, the new family knew the time had come to escape.

And so, they did, taking advantage of a momentary lapse of security during a routine bonding exercise with their child, the family fled the all-consuming shadow the government. And life since had descended from one downhill slope to another. Everywhere they went, their child garnered followers in record numbers, and no matter how desperately they tried to suppress these gifts, the government always tracked them down. And so, the chase resumed all over again. In desperation, Kelly turned to drink to ease her growing frustrations with her husband, who coincidentally had transitioned from the sauce to more illicit forms of self-induced narcosis.

Kelly purchased medicine off the black market, through morally dubious means, medicine that would supposedly dampen the effects of the 'rabid fanbase', as the cloaked dealer had described it. Though any real hope of this medicine being worth even a fraction of what Chris had paid for it, went out the window once they discovered that it did not halt the escalation of their daughter's follower count, but rather, induced bouts of often painful gas and an upset tummy for days on end. Though perhaps due to her own stubborn ways, Kelly insisted they stick with the medicine in the vein hope that its effects might unveil themselves with time.

They did not. As such, as years went by more drastic measures had to be taken. Much to Chris's chagrin, Kelly dyed their daughter's hair from a soft hazel brown to blood red and forced her to don a pair of 'fake' thick black rimmed glasses. An act that made it all but impossible, beyond rudely walking up and asking, exactly what gender their child truly is.

The pair had tried to be honest with their child; after what both had latter deemed to be an alcohol and drug fuelled episode, involving a grown-up version of their daughter appearing and disappearing before their very eyes, the duo had told their child the truth of her conception. Yet it was all for naught; They were still forced to lie to anyone who got too close, and their child now bared the unreasonable responsibility of knowing just how fragile their world really is, that there were people out there who transpired to find her and snatch her away at any moment.

Following the revelation of their child's inability to speak after a deeply upsetting visit to a free clinic, the parents decided together for a change that enough was enough, going forward their daughter, would hence be referred to as their 'son'.

Such was life on the run. Compromises had to be made, no matter how badly they warped their child's sense of self, this was for her, or rather, 'him' after all. 'He' would be grateful in time, or at least that's what the pair assured themselves before their respective intoxicants took hold. Any small peace of mind they received had to be worth it. What either of them wouldn't give for just one good night's sleep.

This rinse and repeat of moving their family across the country culminated in their arrival to the not so humble mountain town of South Park, Colorado. Well known for its low housing prices and bizarre goings on, it seemed like the perfect place to lay low. It was secluded, most travel guides recommended not vacationing there, and even with their child's abilities none of the locals would bat an eye, no doubt having witness stranger things on a bi-weekly basis.

All had been going well, that is until their child started making friends.

Children are naturally inquisitive, especially when one of their peers lacked the social practice of conversation, and as expected, questions were raised regarding their weird new playmate.

Going through the tired practices of lying about their child's gender and race had been far easier than it had been in previous moves, the town by and large had been going through a 'socially progressive' overhaul, and as such, pretending their child was simply navigating the complex road of self-identification, was met with great praise and understanding from the school officials. Even if it meant their daughter was forced to suffer the indignities of visiting the school councillor for one-sided lectures regarding her sexual and gender issues, instead of participating in gym class with her peers.

As time went on, the burden of their gradually unravelling web of lies took its toll on the family. Kelly's drinking had escalated from the occasional glass of red wine, to binge drinking a full bottle daily. Chris's pot dependence had a dramatic effect on his paranoia, the opposite effect of traditional marijuana, and as such, the parent's arguments had exploded from verbal jabs to full on hitting one another. And through it all, their little nine-year-old child played silent witness to their irrepressible bouts of scorn and resentment.

Their child was naive, none of this would phase her, like water off a duck's back some might say.

How wrong they were. As her parent's hatred of one another grew, so too did their child's sense of self-loathing and discontent with her life and the world around her. She had no voice, yet if she did, her cries could move mountains and rend the heavens asunder. No one asked their child how she was feeling, or what she was thinking. If she was happy or sad, or needing some small measure of comfort. She existed to bare witness, an unspeaking shell of a person born to follow directions and do as she's told, regardless of her unrecognised loneliness.

How truly ignorant Kelly and her husband had been.

Eventually, their child let slip her birth gender to the school councillor, and as expected the pair argued long into the night, exacerbated further still when Kelly had overheard her husband nonchalantly tell their child to keep her mouth shut in the future.

Their daughters growing disassociation with her family and peers went, by and large, unnoticed by the parents in question. Unperturbed as their child delved further and further into realms of fantasy and imagination as a means of escape. Thus, their happy 'normal' family charade remained; that is until one night, when the final stitch in their great web fell apart, and everything they knew unravelled before their eyes.

Jackbooted thugs had come for she and her husband in the dead of night. Heavily built men and women with stun batons and pepper spray. There hadn't been time to barricade the door or locate any sort of makeshift weaponry before their bedroom door had been caved in, and the unassuming couple were dragged out of their home and thrown into the dank oily interior of an unmarked white van. Fear and revulsion at the thought of their child being subjected to such cruelty threw both parents into justifiable fits of adrenaline fuelled fury, and yet, their child had been ignored entirely.

Whilst their pride and joy slept the sleep of kings, the pair were bound, gagged, and locked in an undisclosed location at the behest of one of their child's friends. The overweight one that had dressed like a wizard in previous weeks and had recently donned the guise of some sort of rodent.

To the best of their knowledge, the local children had taken to playing superheroes, all in good harmless fun as far as they knew. But the fat one had taken things further than either parent thought possible for one his age. They were recorded and slapped around whilst the kid, or rather his hand puppet, make vague threats toward their child on camera. To what end? Neither was sure. But both agreed that when this foolishness came to an end, that their child would never again associate with this boy.

However, said end never came.

Like a nightmare bleeding into reality, Kelly and her husband once again found themselves at the mercy of unlicensed doctors and surgical pioneers in flagrant disregard of basic human rights. Though not the government entity they'd long feared would return for them, the situation was no less frightening or infuriating. Their hard work and planning, their web of lies and subterfuge regarding their daughter, all for nothing. Rendered completely inconsequential by the machinations of a fat ten-year-old and his sharpie-scribbled marionette.

The little fat boy wanted a clone of their child. To what end neither was sure, and demands for answers from the pair yielded little in the way of reasonable explanation.

In the space of almost twenty-four hours, both Kelly and Chris Hayes were subjected to the lowest levels of depravity, having been stripped, poked and prodded, interrogated, and ultimately Chris was secured to a cold medical table with a surgical laser primed to slice off his head, whilst his wife watched from afar.

… And then all hell broke loose.

 **XXX**

The local sixth-graders. Hideous mutated abominations of science against the very laws of nature, ran afoul of the entire complex. The various staff suffered the retribution they justly deserved, not a one survived the ensuing chaos. Most of the facility had been rendered inoperable; the mutant's path of seemingly senseless destruction had taken its toll on the machinery and electrical systems, making any prospect of contacting the outside world next to impossible, as anyone who might have possessed the knowhow to restore any means of communication had be torn apart in an orgy blood and hormonally imbalanced aggression.

Kelly had tried in vain to free her husband from the table after the doctors fled, but the mutants got to her first.

The attack was over as fast as it began.

Leapt upon and subsequently battered as her husband could only lay there and listen.

The assault had left her legs broken and her arm hanging by a thread, the blood leaking out of her faster than she could tourniquet with a few fleeting scraps of fabric in close proximity.

There they found themselves.

Chris trapped on a table.

And Kelly, badly beaten and barely hanging to life.

Imagine their infinite surprise then, when none other than their daughter came strolling in, clad in her cute little superhero outfit and her same emotionless expression plastered across her young face.

Of course, they we're both overjoyed to see their child alive and unharmed, not to mention furious that she'd willingly enter a place so dangerous, as far as they knew, alone.

Yet this somewhat happy reunion was undercut by the startling realisation that neither Kelly, Chris, or their daughter could leave. The entrance their daughter had used was sealed shut, and for some inane purpose, the machine the fat kid had said would begin the cloning process, also operated the escape elevator. Not one of them could leave without activating the DNA analyser, but to do that the pressure sensitive machinery required a fresh sample, and a large one at that.

Chris's head was to be used for the procedure, decided upon by the scientists that the all-important XY chromosome would be the deciding factor in creating a perfect clone. And the fat kid had sworn up and down that a 'female new kid' would ruin his franchise, whatever that meant. Clearly, their daughters gender remained misinformed amongst her circle of friends, and Kelly wasn't about to correct him and risk putting their child in harm's way. For all the good that had done.

And, as with so many of their family's days gone by, their behaviour swiftly devolved into arguing and throwing petty accusations back and forth. All whilst their child looked on, emotionless, expressionless, just taking it all in.

Chris revealed that his wife had continued secretly drugging their child's food, despite being fully aware of the side effects. Whilst Kelly played the sympathy card, having confirmed to the school councillor that her child was in fact a biological girl.

The weight of such a decision weighted on their daughter's head as both parents forced their child to choose sides.

The father who'd shrouded her entire life with lies upon lies, or her mother who'd knowingly spiked her food. She loved her parents, that much she knew, but asking her to choose one from the other, let alone kill them was a monstrous trauma that no child should ever be forced to endure.

Maybe it was blind panic in a rare moment of emotional upheaval, or perhaps fate guided her tiny hands; whatever the case may be, The New Kid of South Park, daughter of Chris and Kelly Hayes, and famed vigilante… cut off her father's head.

Kelly heard the screaming and knew what had transpired. In a moment where relief overshadowed all doubt, grief and semblance of logic, Kelly praised her daughter for making the right decision and encouraged her to flee the laboratory and get help.

It wasn't until her baby girl's shaking frame wondered into her field of view, caked in blood and carrying her daddy's still dripping severed head, that the full gravity of her actions struck the mother to her core. She'd turned her daughter into a murderer. Kelly tried to speak, yet words failed her as she watched her little girl insert her fathers head into the analyser. Sure enough, the lift doors opened, and her daughter entered inside. The last thing she saw of her baby was her cold, wet, lifeless eyes. The eyes of a traumatised child. A child who'd just watched someone she loved die… by her hand.

And just like that, Kelly was alone.

Her child was gone.

Her husband was dead. Reduced to a headless corpse congealing on a stained metal table.

And her, with only her thoughts to quell the piercing silence.

Minutes dragged on for what felt like hours, with every arduous moment Kelly could feel her life slipping away. Everything felt cold, the smell of blood festered throughout the ravaged metal laboratory, and she knew she didn't have long before her body would go into shock.

Reverberating throughout the facility, Kelly could just make out the sounds of some sort of commotion taking place downstairs. She prayed that her daughter had reached safety, but from the look of things, who's to say she hadn't condemned herself and her daughter to death over another stupid argument with her husband.

She thought of all she'd miss.

Finally reading that book she'd never finished.

Her child growing up.

Grandchildren.

The further she fell into sadness, the bleaker her outlook on life became. When all was said and done, what semblance of a life could she and her daughter carve out for themselves when the dead had been buried and the blood had been washed away?

Her child would never be the same after this. No amount of therapy could undo this sort of damage. If her child received help then questions would be raised, worst case scenario, she'd be locked up and her child placed into foster care.

And then there was the media, a massacre of this magnitude was sure to turn some heads, important ones. All eyes would be on South Park, and if her daughter was known to have survived, there was no doubt her young face would be plastered across every screen, newspaper and conspiracy rag in the country. Then they'd be found, and her daughter would be made to go through this hell till her dying day.

Kelly couldn't move. Not even her working arm. She was unbearably cold, and yet one thought persisted as all else, even her vision failed her.

There was no plan for this.

Despite every outcome and possibility she and her husband had planned for, this one situation had never come to mind.

Kelly and Chris had never planned for a scenario where they both died, and their daughter would be left alone.

Her little girl had no relatives she could be sent to.

There was no appointed guardian, they'd never established roots in one place long enough for such an eventuality.

They left no inheritance in their wake. Nor wills due to government paranoia.

And their secrets, all their lies would come to light once investigators discovered what remained of herself and her decapitated husband.

And her baby girl couldn't even speak, how would she get by without her mom and dad? No one understood her, not like she or her husband had.

What had she done?!

Her daughter's life was ruined.

She wasn't even ten years old.

And with that depressing notion baring down upon her, Kelly felt herself becoming alarming heavy, slumping to one side into a puddle of her own blood.

All she saw was red.

In her final moments, she didn't think about seeing her husband again. Nor the life she'd once lived before any of this.

Just her baby girl, holding her daddies head in her arms.

 **XXX**

 **A/N: Well, that was cheerful wasn't it? Word to the wise, killing the dad never made sense to me, since even without the time jumping and all that, there was no way the mom would've lived. Not after the amount of time it took to navigate that giant facility.**

 **And on that note, I've gotta say, I don't think the timeline adds up… but then again, that's the price you pay when time travels involved. Lotta planning needs to go into that narrative for it to make sense.**

 **Anyhow, remember, this is only the prologue. And as with all deaths, it's not about those who died, but those left behind.**

 **There's a reason this story's called, 'Unmasked'.**

Don't forget to review, it's the only way I'll learn.

 **XXX**


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